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C.lASStf' 


TRANSCENDENTALISM. 



WILLIAM B. GREENE. 


\ 

j 


“ Rich is that universal self whom thou worshippest as the soul ” 

The Vedas. 



BOSTON: 

LEE AND SHEPARD, 149 WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK: LEE, SHEPARD, AND DILLINGHAM. 

1871 . 









I THE 

I of co»«sn®^;| 

IwASHiNcyrowLl 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
By WILLIAM B. GREENE, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Boston: 

Stereotyped and Printed by Rand , A very, Frye. 


■Loicni^OfS 



\ 

To 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON 
&fje JFollabring Pages 

ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 


BY THE AUTHOR. 




TRANSCENDENTALISM. 


Transcendentalism is that form of philosophy 
which sinks God and nature in man. God, man, 
and nature, in their relations (if indeed the absolute 
God may be said ever to be in relations), are the 
objects of all philosophy; but, in different theories, 
greater or less prominence is given to one or the other 
of these three, and thus systems are formed. Pan¬ 
theism sinks man and nature in God; materialism 
sinks God and man in the universe; transcendental¬ 
ism sinks God and nature in man. In other words, 
some, in philosophizing, take their point of departure 
in God alone, and are inevitably conducted to pan¬ 
theism ; others take their point of departure in nature 
alone, and are led to materialism; others start with 
man alone, and end in transcendentalism. 

It is by no means difficult to deny in words the 
actual existence of the outward universe. I may 
say, for example, that the paper on which I write has 
no more outward existence than the thoughts I refrain 
from expressing. When I say I perceive an out¬ 
wardly existing tree, I may be mistaken : what I call 



6 


a tree may have no outward existence, but may, on 
the contrary, be created in my perception. Who 
knows that a thing which appears red to me may 
not appear blue to my neighbor ? If so, then is 
color something which I lend to the object. But 
why stop at color? Perhaps hardness and weight 
have no existence save that which the mind gives. 
“ Whether Nature enjoy a substantial existence with¬ 
out,” says Mr. Emerson, — the profoundest meta¬ 
physician, after Jonathan Edwards, which this country 
has ever produced, — “ or is only in the apocalypse 
of the mind, it is alike useful and alike venerable to 
me. Be it what it may, it is ideal to me so long as I 
cannot try the accuracy of my senses.” “ What 
differs it to me,” he asks on another page, “ whether 
Orion be up there in heaven, or some god paint the 
image in the firmament of the soul ? ” 

Fabre d’Olivet believed the outward universe to be 
so dependent upon the individual soul, that we may 
properly be said to create it ourselves. He thought 
that we ourselves produce all forms and the world, 
and that we may create whatever we will, isolatedly 
and instantaneously. In truth, if all outward things 
depend for their being, and manner of existence, upon 
ourselves and upon our inward states, a change in 
those states involves a change in outward nature. If 
we discover, therefore, the connection of our thoughts 
and feelings with outward nature, the whole universe 
is in our power; and we may, by a modification of 
ourselves, change the world from its present state 
into what we all wish it might become. This thought 
gives the foundation for a system of magic. Mr. 


7 


Alcott (an accomplished adept in pantheistic theoso¬ 
phy) thinks the world would be what it ought to be 
were he only as holy as he should be: he also con¬ 
siders himself personally responsible for the obliquity 
of the earth’s axis. A friend once told me, while we 
watched large flakes of snow as they were slowly 
falling, that, could we but attain to the right spiritual 
attitude, we should be able to look on outward nature, 
and say, “J snow, I rain.” In the eighth number of 
“ The Dial ” we find a beautiful poem touching upon 
this theory, from which we make an extract: — 

“ All is but as it seems, — 

The round, green earth, 

With river and glen; 

The din and mirth 
Of the busy, busy men; 

The world’s great fever, 

Throbbing forever: 

The creed of the sage, 

The hope of the age, 

All things we cherish, 

All that live and all that perish, — 

These are but inner dreams. 

The great world goeth on 
To thy dreaming; 

To thee alone 

Hearts are making their moan, 

Eyes are streaming. 

Thine is the white moon turning night to day; 
Thine is the dark wood sleeping in her ray ; 

Thee the winter chills; 

Thee the spring-time thrills: 

All things nod to thee ; 

All things come to see 


8 


If thou art dreaming on : 

If thy dream should break, 

And thou shouldst awake, 

All things would be gone.* 

Nothing is if thou art not. 

Thou art under, over all; 

Thou dost hold and cover all; 

Thou art Atlas, thou art Jo ye; 

The mightiest truth 

Hath all its youth 

From thy enveloping thought.” 

In this extract the poet makes man to be the only 
real existence, and outward nature to be a mere 
phenomenon dependent upon him. Man is repre¬ 
sented as existing really, actually, absolutely; but 
nature as an accident, an appearance, a consequent 
upon the existence of the human soul. Thus is the 
universe sunk, swallowed up, in man. The conclud¬ 
ing seven lines of the extract are an example of the 
transcendental theology, an example of the swal¬ 
lowing-up of God himself in man. 

Materialism affirms that man is the result of organ- 


* The following lines, from Shelley, are to the same point: — 
“ Earth and ocean. 

Space, and the isles of life and light that gem 
The sapphire floods of interstellar air; 

This firmament pavilioned upon chaos, 

Whose outwall, bastioned impregnably 

Against the escape of boldest thoughts, repels them 

As Calpe the Atlantic clouds; this whole 

Of suns and worlds and men and beasts and flowers, 

With all the silent or tempestuous workings 

By which they have been, are, or cease to be, — 

Is but a vision : all that it inherits 

Are motes of a sick eye, bubbles, and dreams; 

Thought is its cradle and its grave.” 



9 


ization, and denies the existence of separate and 
individual souls, thus sinking man in nature: it also 
identifies God with the active powers of the universe. 
As Pantheism sinks man and nature in God, so ma¬ 
terialism sinks God and man in the universe. Our 
transcendentalists are, by no means, always con¬ 
sistent. Sometimes they express themselves in a 
way that leaves us in doubt whether they are not, at 
bottom, materialists. For example, the poem from 
which the foregoing extracts are quoted is followed 
by another, from the same author, but of clearly 
opposite tenor. We quote a few lines : — 

“ Dost thou dream that thou art free, 

Making, destroying all that thou dost see, 

In the unfettered might of thy soul’s liberty ? 

Lo ! an atom crushes thee 
One nerve tortures and maddens thee j 
One drop of blood is death to thee. 

The mighty voice of Nature 

IS THY PARENT, NOT THY CREATURE; 

IS NO PUPIL, BUT THY TEACHER : 

And the world would still move on 
Were thy soul forever flown. 

For while thou dreamest on, infolded 
In Nature’s wide embrace, 

All thy life is daily moulded 
By her informing grace ; 

And time and space must reign 
And rule o’er thee forever, 

And the outworld lift its chain 
From off thy spirit never.” 

Here the soul is evidently sunk in Nature : it is, to 
use a mathematical expression, considered as a func- 

1* 


10 


tion of the universe. — But we ought not to have 
separated these passages; for the poet aims to show 
that transcendentalism and materialism, liberty and 
fatality, are two sides of one truth. 

Having spoken thus far of some of the peculiar 
characteristics of the transcendental school of phi¬ 
losophy, we shall now take occasion to say a few 
words concerning its origin and development. But 
here it will be necessary to treat of the philosophy 
of Kant, a subject not easily handled. The funda¬ 
mental postulate of the philosopher of Konigsberg 
may, however, initiate the reader into the whole sys¬ 
tem. Here it is, as near as we recollect it: — 

“ If any truth be present to the mind with a conviction of its 
universality and necessity, that truth was derived to the mind 
from its own operations, and does not rest upon observation and 
experience: 

“ And, conversely, if any truth be present to the mind with a 
conviction of its contingency, that truth was derived to the mind 
from observation and experience, and not from the Operations of 
the mind itself.” 

For example, we know that every effect must have 
its cause; and this truth lies in the mind with a con¬ 
viction of its universality and necessity: this truth is 
derived, therefore, not from observation and experi¬ 
ence, but from the operations of the mind itself; it is 
born, not from outward nature, but in and from the 
mind itself. In other words, to express ourselves 
after the manner of the Scotch school, we are forced 
by the very constitution of our being to admit this 
truth; so that the recognition of the principle of 


11 


causation may be said to be a law of our intellectual 
natures. 

On the other hand, we say, We know the sun will 
rise to-morrow ; but we are not absolutely certain of 
the fact. This second truth lies, therefore, in our 
minds, with a conviction of its contingency, and not 
of its necessity; and is, consequently, not derived 
from a law of our intellectual natures, but from ob¬ 
servation and experience. 

By every fact of experience, a revelation is made 
to the soul, not only of the idea which it has appro¬ 
priated to itself, but also of those conditions of the 
external world, and of its own nature, which ren¬ 
dered that acquisition possible. For example, when 
we perceive moonlight, it is necessary (1) that there 
should be something out of us to produce the effect 
of moonlight upon our sensibility, and also (2) cer¬ 
tain internal faculties which are responsive to the 
influences of moonlight. Without the outward ob¬ 
ject there is no perception, and without the inward 
faculties there is likewise no perception: for the 
moon shines upon the trees as well as upon me ; but 
the trees perceive nothing, being devoid of the per¬ 
ceiving faculty. Again: the idea I have of moon¬ 
shine might have been made to be other than it is 
by a change, either, first, in the outward object; or, 
second, in my perceiving faculty. Had the moonshine 
been different, it would have produced a different ef¬ 
fect upon my sensibility, and, consequently, the idea 
would have been different; had my perceiving fac¬ 
ulty been different, the influence or effect of the 
moonshine would have been different, and the idea 


12 


resulting would likewise have been different. All 
this is plain. Now, the faculties of the mind are sup¬ 
posed to be permanent, and to always operate in the 
same manner : therefore the truths given by the fac¬ 
ulties, where nothing from the external word inter¬ 
venes, are universal and necessary. But the outward 
world is given as always changing: therefore the 
truths given by observation and experience alone, are 
always contingent. Perhaps we can make this plainer 
by an illustration. 

A nail-machine is composed of a pair of strong 
shears, which are made to do their work sometimes 
by steam, sometimes by water-power. A man stands 
before the machine, and inserts the end of an iron 
plate between the two blades of the shears when 
they open: when the shears shut, they cut off a nail 
from this plate; and this nail depends for its size and 
shape upon the form of the shears. Let us suppose 
the machine to be in operation, and the plate to be 
inserted. The machine says, I perceive something 
hard, black, cold: what is this something I perceive? 
In answer, the shears close, and the nail is cut off, 
and rattles away into the box. Ah, ha! says the 
machine, I now begin to see into the mystery of the 
impressions of which I was conscious a moment 
ago. It was a tenpenny-nail that produced the im¬ 
pressions, — a long and four-sided substance, sharp 
at one end, and flat at the other. By this time 
the shears close again; and the machine says, 
Another tenpenny-nail, by all that is glorious ! This 
acquisition of knowledge is beginning to be interest¬ 
ing. I must know a little more of the philosophy of 


13 


this business. So the machine goes on to soliloquize. 
Listen! — 

I have now, says the machine, in my experi¬ 
ence, memory, or nail-box, several tenpenny-nails. 
These were undoubtedly acquired from the external 
world, and are all that I have as yet acquired from 
that world. Therefore, if aught beside tenpenny- 
nails exist, in the external world, I have no conception 
of such existence; and that world is, consequently, 
for me, a collection of tenpenny-nails. The follow¬ 
ing appear, therefore, to be unvarying laws of actual 
existence : (1) All things are long and four-sided ; 
and (2) all things are sharp at one end, and flat at 
the other. 

But stop! says'the machine—let us beware of 
hasty inductions. An idea strikes me! About these 
same nails: I am not so clear that they were not 
formed by the concurrent action of two agents. Per¬ 
haps the material was furnished by external nature ; 
while the form resulted from the law of my nature, 
the constitution of my shears, of my own nail-making 
being. The following conclusion, at least, cannot be 
shaken: I may look upon every nail from two distinct 
points of view, — first as to its material, and second 
as to its form. The material undoubtedly comes from 
without, and is variable : some nails are of brass, 
some are of iron; but the form is invariable, and 
comes from within. All my nails must be long and 
four-sided, and that universally and necessarily; but 
the material may vary, being sometimes brass, some¬ 
times iron. This is plain : for I acquire all my nails 
according to the law of my nail-making being; that 


14 


is, translating from scientific into popular language, 
according to the form of my shears. After mature 
deliberation, I think I may take the following postu¬ 
late as the foundation of all my ulterior philoso- 
phy: — 

Whatever I may find in my nail-box, whether nails or what¬ 
ever else relating to nails, if I am convinced that it is what it is 
necessarily, and must be as it is universally, that same thing, 
whatever it is, was not derived to my nail-box from external na¬ 
ture, but finds the reason of its existence in the formation and 
shape of my shears: 

And, conversely, whatever I may find in that same nail-box, 
which is neither necessary nor universal, but variable and contin¬ 
gent, has its origin, and the reason of its existence, not in the 
formation and shape of my shears, but in the external world. 


Having relieved itself of this postulate, the ma¬ 
chine continues its meditations in silence. 

The difference between the postulate of the nail- 
machine and that of the Konigsberg philosopher is by 
no means great. Let us use them both in endeavor¬ 
ing to get at clearer conceptions of the position of our 
transcendental friends. 

Do we not see all material objects under the rela¬ 
tions of space ? Is not space a necessary and univer¬ 
sal form of all our sensible perceptions ? But what 
says the postulate ? The notion of space cannot 
come from the external world ; for, if it did, it would 
not be attended with the conviction of universality 
and necessity with which it is attended. The notion 
of space comes, then, from the mind, and not at all 
from the outward world. (We speak as a Kantian.) 


15 


Space, then, has no outward existence ; and the sup¬ 
position that it has is mere hypothesis. We may 
treat time in the same manner; for time is the me¬ 
dium in which, universally and necessarily, we per¬ 
ceive events. Sensible objects and events are the 
iron, brass, the material of ideas — space and time 
are the form impressed by the shears. After all, 
what can we make of time and space ? Simply this. 
Time and space are the intellectual spectacles through 
which we look on outward nature: they have no 
outward existence, but are media, perhaps distorting 
media, which we spread before our eyes whenever 
we look on the outward. (We give the Kantian 
statement.) But if space and time are mere media, 
perhaps distorting media, through which we perceive 
outward nature, all our sensible perceptions may be 
erroneous ; and, if no new method of acquiring knowl¬ 
edge can be discovered, we may as well doubt of every 
thing. What shall we do, then ? This is the ques¬ 
tion asked by several of our transcendentalists. The 
first course which presents itself to the mind is that 
of endeavoring to eliminate the elements of space 
and time from all our perceptions: but this is evi¬ 
dently impossible; for perception, divested of its 
form, becomes no perception at all, and vanishes. 
Space and time must, therefore, be transcended. 

To follow a transcendental writer, we must not en¬ 
deavor to find the logical connection of his sentences; 
for there is no such logical connection, and the 
writer himself never intended there should be. 
Many transcendental compositions read better back¬ 
wards than they do forwards. We ought rather to 


16 


transcend space and time (if indeed we can), and 
follow the writer there. A transcendentalist never 
reasons: he describes what he sees from his own 
point of view. So the word “ transcendentalism ” 
relates not so much to a system of doctrines as it does 
to a point of view; from which, nevertheless, a sys¬ 
tem of doctrines may be visible. This explains to us 
why so many, notwithstanding their desire, have 
been unable to read the writings of the new school. 
They have tried to find a system of doctrines where 
they ought to have looked for a point of view. 

But to return to our postulate. We see every 
thing as existing under the law of cause and effect. 
The fact of causation is universal and necessary; for 
every fact of experience gives us, on one side, its ma¬ 
terial, which comes from the out-world; and, on the 
other, its form, which comes always, in part, from the 
law of causation. Let the reader turn for a moment 
to the postulate of the nail-machine. He will find 
that every truth which lies in the mind with a con¬ 
viction of its universality and necessity is derived to 
the mind from its own operations, and that it does not 
rest at all on observation and experience. But does 
not the truth, that every effect must have its cause, 
lie in the mind with a conviction of its universality 
and necessity ? The consequence is clear. The law 
of causation is a distorting medium through which 
we look upon the out-world; and we have no legiti¬ 
mate authority for affirming that .the external world 
is in any way subjected to that law. It is true that 
we are forced to look upon nature under that rela- 
tion; but the necessity of the case arises, not from 



17 


the fact of the reality of the law of causation (we 
speak as a Kantian), but from the constitution of our 
nature. But here all positive knowledge is annihi¬ 
lated. An idea is good and valid, if we may have 
any confidence in these forms of the soul; but what 
is the relation of the form of the shears to the out¬ 
ward object independent of the machine ? Who shall 
infer from the inward to the outward ? 

The system of Kant is one vast scepticism : admit 
the fatal postulate, and there is no dodging the con¬ 
clusion. Our transcendentalists have not been un¬ 
faithful to the thought of their master. They mend 
the theory of Kant by carrying it out, and affirming 
(with the master) that the form of thought, and 
(against the master) that the thing thought of, are 
both of inward (subjective) origin. 

Transcendentalism affirms that the soul creates all 
things, — man, the universe, all forms, all changes, — 
and that this wonderful power is possessed by each 
individual soul. But it may be asked, Will there 
not, then, be necessarily a confusion, a mixture of 
universes, arising from the conflict of the creative 
energies of distinct souls ? This difficulty may be 
made to vanish. Suppose, for a moment, that I have 
a magical power over some great public building, — 
the City Hall, for example ; suppose every one of its 
parts, by a pre-existing harmony, to be made obe¬ 
dient to my will, so that when I will the windows to 
open and shut, the doors to turn on their hinges, &c., 
they immediately do it: would not this City Hall, 
thus immediately obedient to my will, be a new body 
with which I am invested ? Suppose I have power 


18 


over a dog in the moon, so that he barks, runs, wags 
his tail, according to the action of my will: am I not 
existing “in this dim spot which men call earth,” and 
also, at the same time, in u the orbed maiden whom 
mortals call the moon ” ? In the first case, I exist as 
a man; in the second, as an animal of the canine 
species. Without doubt, I may have millions of 
bodies ; there is no difficulty in the matter: all that I 
operate upon by immediate magical power, by magia , 
to use the phrase of Jacob Behmen, is to me a body. 
So I may be in this world a man, and in the moon a 
dog: yet am I not two, but one; for one soul ani¬ 
mates the two bodies. But mark! While I am im¬ 
mersed in things of time and sense, paying no regard 
to the soul, which is under and behind all, I think 
the man who is now moving about, trading and trav¬ 
elling on earth, to be myself; and only after deep 
thought, fasting, and meditation, do I find that I am 
also a dog. But here mysteries thicken. I am not 
only , both a man and a dog : I am also neither a man 
nor a dog; for I am the soul that speaks through 
both. “ What we commonly call man,” says Mr. 
Emerson, “ the eating, drinking, planting, counting 
man, does not, as we know him, represent himself, 
but misrepresents himself. Him we do not respect; 
but the soul, whose organ he is, would he let it ap¬ 
pear through his action, would make our knees 
bend.” The man, therefore, who has attained to 
right knowledge, is aware that there is no such thing 
as an individual soul. There is but one soul, which 
is the “ Over-Soul; ” and this one Soul is the animat¬ 
ing principle of all bodies. When I am thoughtless, 


19 


and immersed in things which are seen, I mistake 
the person who is now writing these sentences for 
myself: but, when I am wise, this illusion vanishes 
like the mists of the morning; and then I know that 
what I thought to be myself was only one of my 
manifestations, only a mode of my existence. It is I 
who bark in the dog, grow in the tree, and murmur in 
the passing brook. Think not, my brother, that thou 
art diverse and alien from myself; it is only while 
we dwell in the outward appearance that we are 
two: when we consider the depths of our being, we 
are found to be the same; for the same self, the same 
vital principle, animates us both. (We speak as a 
transcendentalism) I create the universe ; and thou 
also, my brother, Greatest the same; for we create, 
not two universes, but one; for we two have but one 
soul: there is but one creative energy, which is above, 
and under, and through all. 

This is no new theory. This doctrine was well 
known in the East before history began. No man can 
tell when it arose; for it is, perhaps, as old as thought 
itself. “Rich,” say the Vedas, “is that universal 
self whom thou worshippest as the soul.” We should 
strive, therefore, to disentangle ourselves from the 
world of matter, from the bonds of time and space, 
that we may take our stand at once in the “ Over- 
Soul,” which we are, did we but know it. We are 
the Over-Soul; and we come to our own native home 
when we attain to our true point of view, where the 
whole universe is seen to be our body. Then do we 
know of a truth that it is we who think, love, laugh, 
bark, growl, run, crawl, rain, snow, &c., &c. Mr. 


20 


Emerson has given a beautiful expression to this 
thought:— 

“ There is no great and no small 
To the Soul that maketh all: 

And, where it cometh , all things are; 

And it cometh everywhere.” 

44 There is one mind,” says Mr. Emerson in his 
Essay on History, 44 common to all individual men. 
Every man- is an inlet to the same, and to all of the 
same. He that is once admitted to the right of rea¬ 
son is made a freeman of the whole estate. What 
Plato has thought, he may think; what a saint has 
felt, he may feel; what at any time has befallen any 
man, he can understand. Who hath access to this uni - 
versal Mind is a 'party to all that is or can he done; 
for this is the only and sovereign Agent.” 

It may easily be seen that this amounts to an iden¬ 
tification of man with God. Yet this system is by no 
means pantheistic: perhaps, indeed, we may be permit¬ 
ted to coin a new term, and call it human pantheism. 
Pantheism sinks man in God, — makes him to be a phe¬ 
nomenon of the divine existence; but this system, so 
far from being an absorption of humanity in God, is 
an absorption of Grod in the human soul. A pantheis¬ 
tic friend once explained to me the difference between 
his system and that of the transcendentalists. 44 1 
hold myself,” he said, 44 to be a leaf, blown about by 
the winds of change and circumstance, and holding 
to the extreme end of one of the branches of the tree 
of universal existence ; but these gentlemen (referring 
to the transcendentalists) think themselves to he- some 
of the sap.” 


21 


Let us go up higher, and examine this doctrine as 
it manifested itself in the Oriental world; let us ex¬ 
amine it in its bearings upon the problem of the soul’s 
future existence. It is written in the Vedas, “The 
soul should be known; that is, it should be distin¬ 
guished from Nature : for then it will not return; it 
will not return.” In this passage, under a form pecu¬ 
liar to the East, we find the enunciation of one of the 
fundamental problems of philosophy (that of the im¬ 
mortality of the soul) with the indication of a solu¬ 
tion. It is the general belief of the Orientals, that 
the soul of a d}dng man, after leaving this present 
body, will be born again into the world under some 
new form. A man, in his next body, may be a man, 
a horse, or a dog; and this re-birth, whether in the 
old or under a new form, is the return of the soul. 
The expiation of certain crimes consists, according to 
the description in the laws of Menu, in the soul’s liv¬ 
ing a thousand successive lives in the bodies of a 
thousand different spiders. The prospect, therefore, 
is by no means agreeable; and we cannot wonder that 
the whole force of the Oriental mind should have 
been directed to the discovery of some means whereby 
the return of the soul might be avoided. 

In all ages of the world there have been philoso¬ 
phers who held that the soul builds the body; that 
is, that the character and form of the body are de¬ 
pendent on the character of the soul. The diametri¬ 
cally opposite doctrine is, indeed, more fashionable at 
this time: for many of our phrenologists and other 
materialists believe that it is the body ivhich builds the 
soul; that is, that, the soul is a function of (depend- 


22 


ent upon) some portion of the organism, — say the 
brain, for example. An appeal is made, in both 
cases, to observation and experience. The phrenolo¬ 
gist, from an examination of the skull, will give a 
pretty shrewd guess as to the character of its owner: 
the idealist, on the contrary, will call our attention 
to the fact that the indulgence of certain passions alters 
the conformation of the face and the expression of the 
figure. The idealist says that the man who -acquires 
the disposition of a fox will begin to look like a fox; 
will begin to become a fox as far as such a trans¬ 
formation is compatible with human nature. It is in 
the nature of spirit, says the idealist, to express itself 
in some form; and, as we are all rendered free at 
death, why should we not, in the next birth, take the 
form best adapted to express our inward natures ? 
Why should not the man who is, in heart, a fox, take 
in the next birth the outward form of a fox ? Why 
should not a fierce, bloody man be born the next 
time as a bull-dog? and a woman, who has no desire 
except for dress and display, be born as a peacock ? 
Are their souls immortal? Yea, perhaps; but their 
present desires may remain with them, for their hap¬ 
piness or misery, throughout eternity. Conversely, a 
man of pure and angelic character begins inevitably 
to present a pure and angelic appearance ; the counte¬ 
nance becomes placid, the manner sedate; and the 
soul of the man transforms his body till it becomes as 
angelic as is compatible with its present relations: 
and, when it assumes a new form after death, what 
shall prevent it from assuming the one most appropri¬ 
ate to its nature ? 


23 


Our transcendentalists hold, not only that the soul 
builds the body, but that it builds all things, — God, 
the universe, other men, &c. “ In the order of 

thought,” says Mr. Emerson, “the materialist takes 
his departure from the external world, and esteems a 
man as one product of that. The idealist takes his 
departure from his consciousness, and reckons the 
world as an appearance. . . . The experience of the 
idealist inclines him to behold the procession of facts 
you call the world as flowing perpetually outward 
from an invisible unsounded centre in himself , centre 
alike of him and of them, and necessitating him to 
regard all things as having a subjective or relative 
value, relative to that aforesaid unknown centre of 
him .” A little thought will convince the reader that 
the theory, that the soul builds the body, is as plausible 
and as probable as the other doctrine, that the body 
builds the soul. In short, subjective-idealism is just 
as true as materialism; and we may add, just as false. 
As is evident, if we start with man alone, our reason¬ 
ings will leave us, at the end, in transcendentalism 
(subjective-idealism) ; and, if we take our departure 
in nature alone, we end, of necessity, in materialism ; 
both partial, exclusive, and inadequate systems. The 
fact is, the body builds the soul, and the soul builds 
the body; but (we will permit ourselves to add) it is 
God who builds both. 

What reasoning, what train of thought, lay in the 
minds of the writers of the Vedas when they ex¬ 
plained the method to be followed by men desirous 
of avoiding a return into this evil mansion of pain ? 
Why did they suppose that a distinction of the soul 


24 


from Nature, by the exercise of thought, would be 
sufficient to overcome the necessity for a return? We 
will endeavor to give an answer to these questions. 
But it will be necessary to explain beforehand some 
of the peculiarities of the Oriental philosophy, and 
to fix the meaning of several unusual terms and 
phrases, in order that the reader may readily under¬ 
stand the somewhat obscure texts we shall find it 
necessary to quote. By means of these definitions, 
we trust we shall be able to set forth in a clear light 
the true nature both of transcendentalism and of 
Aryan Orientalism, and also to show that the two are 
really one. 

The invisible world , or world of potential existences , 
of the Orientals, is precisely what Jacob Behmen, 
John Pordage, the Gnostics, and other Western the- 
osophists, designate as the abyss. Now, in order to 
describe or illustrate the meaning of the words, the 
abyss , or the thing they designate, we must have re¬ 
course to the reader’s own imagination ; for the tran¬ 
scendental philosophy proceeds from within outwards, 
from the thought and imagination to the existing fact, 
and not conversely. Let the reader, therefore, sup¬ 
pose, in thought, this visible universe to be broken. 
Let all the qualities by which we distinguish the dif¬ 
ferences subsisting among the different bodies of 
Nature be imagined as ceasing to manifest them¬ 
selves. Let all properties, all activities in Nature, be 
figured as re-entering into themselves. Let all that 
by which each manifests its own proper existence fall 
back into the virtual state, so that all properties, all 
activities, exist no longer in act, but only in the power 


25 


of acting. Like a circle that contracts more and 
more till it vanishes in its own centre, let all exten¬ 
sions contract into — into what, O ye Powers! Let all 
qualities derived from extension, or which are manifest¬ 
ed to us through extension, enter again into themselves. 
Let, in short, all properties of things be only in po¬ 
tentiality * of manifestation. When all outward things 
are thus conceived as existing in potentiality of mani¬ 
festation, man also must be conceived as having 
ceased from all actual existence,! and must be fig¬ 
ured (if figured at all) as having re-entered the po¬ 
tential state. In fact, how does man act ? how does 
he manifest himself ? He moves, eats, drinks, thinks, 
wills, remembers, hopes, loves, desires, &c. But can 
a man eat without eating something ? or can he drink 

* What is potential existence ? What is actual existence ? What is the 
difference bo_ween potential and actual existence ? A thing exists potentially , 
or inpotentia , when it is possible only. This same thing exists actually when 
it has not only this possible (potential) existence, but also a real existence in 
act. 

t What is the difference in signification between the terms essence and 
existence ? Essence is pure being, without efflux or manifestation. Exist¬ 
ence involves outgoing, or manifestation. The soul of man, and every other 
substance, according to the foundation of its being, according to its centre or 
root, is; but according to its outgoings, manifestations, or operations, it 
exists. A thing is when in potentia , or when possessing only a possible ex¬ 
istence ; but it exists when it has not only its root of substance or being, but 
also an actual manifestation. 

The foregoing definition of the word essence is the one given by Sweden¬ 
borg, the Gnostics, and other theosophers, and is not at all the same with the 
one given by the schoolmen. The scholastic definition of the term, the one 
adopted by Spinoza, who scorns the gnosis, is as follows: — 

Essence is that without which a particular thing cannot be what it is. A 
clock and a turnspit may be constructed of like materials; but it is essential 
to a clock that it should mark the regular divisions of time: if a clock lose 
its capability of keeping time, it ceases to be quoad clock, although it may 
still be utilized for communicating an irregular movement of rotation. 

2 


26 


if he do not drink something ? Can he move without 
moving through some space, or moving something; 
viz., his body? Can he love, hope, desire, think, 
without thinking, hoping, loving, desiring something ? 
When all things are in the potential state, this some¬ 
thing, which is necessary to all his actions, is with¬ 
drawn : and, as man cannot act or manifest himself 
without the concurrence of this something, he must 
also himself cease from all action, all manifestation; 
he must himself, in like manner, re-enter the potential 
state. Conceive, if you can, that you are removed 
in some distant region of space where nothing can 
come into contact with you; where the light of the 
stars of heaven is extinguished; where the undula¬ 
tions of the all-pervading ether cease to operate; 
where all motion, all change, all springing sources, 
have re-entered into themselves: conceive, also, your 
memory to be so blotted out that the voices of the 
past sound no longer : conceive that no fact remains 
present to the mind on which to base an inference in 
regard to the future. Would you live, act, think, or 
desire ? Of what would you think ? or what would you 
desire ? All these objects of thought and desire have 
entered, according to the supposition, into the poten¬ 
tial state, and manifest themselves no longer to you. 
Evidently you have entered, as far as is possible this 
side the gates of death, into the potential state, into 
the invisible world, into the abyss. 

When we thus conceive this universe to be broken, 
to have returned into its original essence, but non-ex¬ 
istence ; when we conceive man also to have ceased 
from all actual existence, — we shall perceive all our 


27 


representations, humanity, the outward world, our¬ 
selves, all thought, all desire, re-entering into each 
other, so as to exist thenceforth only in germ, only in 
potentiality of existence. Man and the universe will 
be effaced together; all things will enter the poten¬ 
tial state simultaneously : for the human intelligence 
reflects the universe; and the re-entering of the uni¬ 
verse into the potential state will be marked by the 
smooth surface of the mirror (the mind of man), 
which gives thenceforth no reflection, which marks 
thenceforth no change. 

Thus beings become one being in potentiality of 
manifestation. Yet, when we say one being, our 
words must not be taken with too much strictness. 
Nature and man have re-entered into themselves, and 
all things exist only in potentia: they have become 
one being, insomuch as each is now a cause existing 
in potentiality of operation; one being, inasmuch as 
these causes are undistinguishable the one from the 
other, since all that can effect a distinction is swal¬ 
lowed up in the abyss of potentiality. But they are 
many beings, insomuch as they are the potentiality of 
a world involving diversity and change. 

This one being, this world in potentia , is the abyss 
of Jacob Behmen, the invisible world of the Orientals. 

“I am,” says Kreeshna in the Bhagvat Geeta, “that which 
is the seed of all things in nature ; and there is nothing, whether 
animate or inanimate, which is without me. But what, 0 Arjoon ! 
hast thou to do with this manifold wisdom ? I planted the uni¬ 
verse with a single portion, and stood still. [The son of Pandoo 
then beheld within the mighty compound being, within the body 
of the God of gods, standing together, the whole universe, divided 


28 


forth into its vast variety.] I see thyself, says Arjoon, on all 
sides, of infinite shape, formed with abundant arms and bellies and 
mouths and eyes; but I can neither discover thy beginning, thy 
middle, nor again thy end, O universal Lord, form of the uni¬ 
verse 1 ” 

The following extract from the Laws of Menu is 
clear, and shows the distinction between the poten¬ 
tial and actual worlds; the first being the substance 
and seed of the latter, and the latter being the for¬ 
mer drawn out into actual relations: — 

“ They who are acquainted with day and night know that a day 
of Brahma is a thousand revolutions of the Yoogs, and that liis 
night extendeth for a thousand more. On the coming-forth of 
that day, all things proceed from invisibility to visibility: so, on the 
approach of night, they are all dissolved away into that which is 
called invisible. The universe even, having existed, is again dis¬ 
solved : and now again, on the approach of day, by divine necessi¬ 
ty, it is reproduced. That which, upon the dissolution of all things 
else, is not destroyed, is superior and of another nature from that 
visibility: it is invisible and eternal. He who is thus called Invisi¬ 
ble and Incorruptible is even he who is called the Supreme Abode: 
which men, having once obtained, they never more return to the 
earth : that is my mansion. That Supreme Being is to be ob¬ 
tained by him that worshippeth no other gods. In him is included 
all Nature; by him all things are spread abroad.” 

We give a few more extracts from the “ B hag vat 
Geeta: ” — 

“ The great Brahm,” says Kreeshna, “ is my womb. In it I 
place my foetus, and from it is the production of all Nature. ... I 
am generation and dissolution; the place where all things are re- 
posited, and the inexhaustible seed of all Nature. I am sunshine, 
and I am rain. I now draw in, and I now let out. I am death 
and s immortality. I am entity and non-entity. . . . The ignorant, 


29 


being unacquainted with my supreme nature, which is superior to 
all things, and exempt from decay, believe me, who am invisible, to 
exist in the visible form under which they see me. ... I am the 
creation and the dissolution of the whole universe. There is not 
any thing greater than I; and all things hang on me, even as pre¬ 
cious gems on a string. I am moisture in the water, light in the 
sun and moon, invocation in the Vedas, sound in the firmament, 
human nature in mankind. In all things 1 am life, and I am zeal 
in the zealous; and know, O Arjoon! that I am the eternal seed 
of all Nature. ... I will now tell thee what is Gnea, or the object 
of wisdom ; from which understanding thou wilt enjoy immortality. 
This is that which has no beginning, and is separate, even Brahm, 
who can neither be called sat (ens) nor asat (non-ens). Unat¬ 
tached, it containeth all things; and, without quality, it partaketh 
of every quality. It is undivided; yet in all things it standeth di¬ 
vided. It is wisdom, — that which is the object of wisdom, and 
that which is to be obtained by wisdom.’’ 

We may illustrate this doctrine still further by 
commenting on the following extract from Dupuis. 
That author says, — 

“ Amid the shadows of a dark night, when the heavens are 
covered with a thick cloud, when all bodies have disappeared from 
our eyes, and we seem to dwell alone with ourselves and with the 
black shadows which surround us, what is then the measure of our 
existence ? How much does it differ from an entire annihilation, 
especially when memory and thought do not surround us with the 
images of objects which the day revealed to us ? All is dead to us; 
and we ourselves are, in a certain manner, dead to Nature. What 
can give us life, and draw our soul from this mortal weakness which 
chains down its activity in the shadows of chaos ? A single ray 
of light can restore us to ourselves, and to Nature, which seemed 
so far removed from us. Behold the principle of our true exist¬ 
ence, without which our life would be but the sentiment of a 
prolonged ennui. It is this need of light, it is its creative energy, 
which has been felt by all men; for they have seen nothing more 


30 


frightful than its absence. Behold their first Divinity, whose 
brilliant splendor, sparkling forth from the bosom of chaos, caused 
to proceed thence man and the universe, according to the theo¬ 
logical principles of Orpheus and of Moses.” 

The thought here expressed is simple; but its 
power is inexhaustible. We need not dwell on the 
view of the nature of life which is so clearly and beau¬ 
tifully expressed; for we shall have much to say of it 
hereafter. But we would ask Dupuis, Is there noth¬ 
ing but light which can expel this obscure gloom ? is 
there nothing but light which can deliver man from 
this nugatory abyss of potential existence? How 
much is involved in the expression, “ especially when 
memory and thought do not surround us with the 
images of objects which the day revealed to us ” ? A 
single ray of light would indeed restore us to reality, 
to communion with nature; but would not the re¬ 
membrance of a single object seen in the day awaken 
the soul to a real life, thohgh not to an immediate 
communion with nature ? While we are in this state 
of darkness and of silence, this state of dreaming 
without dreams, the whole expanse , if we may so 
speak, of memory, is spread before the inner eye, but 
without form, and, as it were, void. No distinct 
image is present to the mind ; and all our conceptions 
lie in the memory and imagination (which is another 
form, or rather a modification of memory), in the mere 
potentiality of existence as actual conceptions. If 
we begin to act mentally, if we begin to form to our¬ 
selves a picture or conception, the facts of memory 
rise up before us ; and, taking the isolated parts, we 
bring them together, —perhaps in new forms by the 


31 


exercise of imagination, perhaps in the reproduction 
of some well-known collocation by the exercise of 
simple memory. 

This vast and apparently empty (as in the case 
supposed by Dupuis) expanse of memory, which 
stretches out before the inward eye when we seem to 
cease from all thought, is as the invisible or potential 
world, as the abyss. This empty expanse , containing 
the germ of all our conceptions, is a similitude, a 
correspondency, of the invisible world of the Orientals. 
But the invisible world is the seed of all nature ; 
while the vacant expanse, or world, of memory and 
imagination, is finite, and the seed of the conceptions 
of the individual man only. The whole universe is 
contained, in potentia, in the abyss: in like manner, 
in this field of memory are contained potentially all 
those elements which go to make up the conceptions 
formed by the mind when it enters into operation. 

According to the Oriental theology as perfected 
by Sakyamuni (and Buddhism is the only Indian doc¬ 
trine that has profoundly influenced the current of 
thought in Western Asia and in Europe), a man 
must, in this world, crucify every affection, every 
tendency, and endeavor to be, at the moment of 
death, in the state described in the quotation from 
Dupuis: thus, and thus only, can he escape the re¬ 
turn, the necessity of transmigrating. “ At the end 
of life,” says Kreeshna, who is the Abyss, “ he who, 
having abandoned his mortal frame, departeth think¬ 
ing only of me, without doubt goeth unto me ; or else, 
if he think not of me, but of other things, whatever 
nature he shall thus call upon at the end of life, when 


32 


he shall quit his mortal frame, he shall go into it.” 
When a man dies who is without affection, whose 
mind is fixed upon the Abyss, upon the universal 
unity of indifference, he will not take any form (for 
he has no particular character or tendency), but will 
at once enter into the potential state. But this re¬ 
entrance into the potential state seems to be annihila¬ 
tion (though the essence of the soul subsists) rather 
than immortality. Kreeshna is the Abyss; and the 
highest state of future happiness held out by the 
“ Bhagvat Geeta ” consists in a return into Kreeshna. 
In this state of essence without existence we should 
indeed be free from the danger of migration, for we 
should be thenceforth free from all relations what¬ 
ever ; but no future life is compatible with such an 
order of being. We should like to know how our 
transcendentalists answer the objections brought 
against the doctrine of the “ Bhagvat Geeta.” Their 
whole desire is to re-enter into themselves ; to be 
absolved from all dependency upon any thing which 
is not themselves. How do they escape the Abyss ? 
How do they avoid a return into Kreeshna, into “ the 
Supreme Abode ” ? Their only argument for immor¬ 
tality is the metaphysical one, derived from the fact 
of the soul’s simplicity: but this proves only that the 
soul’s being is imperishable; it proves nothing in re¬ 
lation to a future life. 

Here are some intimations of the rule of conduct 
which ought to be followed by the aspirant after im¬ 
mersion in Kreeshna: — 

“ Those men of regulated lives,” says Kreeshna, “ whose sins 
are done away, being freed from contending passions, enjoy me. 


33 


. . . He, O Arjoon! who, from conviction, acknowledged my 
divine birth and actions, doth not, upon his quitting his mortal 
frame, enter into another; for he enteretli into me. . . . They who 
serve me with adoration, I am in them , and they in me.* . . . 
Wise men who have abandoned all thought of the fruit which is 
produced from their actions are freed from the chains of birth, 
and go to the regions of eternal happiness. ... A man is said to 
be confirmed in wisdom when he forsaketh every desire which en¬ 
tered into his heart, and of himself is happy, and contented in 
himself. . . . The wisdom of that man is established, who, in all 
things, is without affection ; and, having received eider good or 
evil, neither rejoiced at the one, nor is cast down by the other. 
His wisdom is confirmed, when, like a tortoise, he can draw in all 
his members, and restrain them from their wonted purposes. The 
hungry man loseth every object but the gratification of his appe¬ 
tite ; and, when he is become acquainted with the Supreme, he 
loseth even that. . . . The man whose passions enter his heart as 
the waters run into the unswelling, passive ocean, obtained hap¬ 
piness. . . . The man whose mind is led astray by the pride of 
self-sufficiency thinketh that he himself is the executor of all those 
actions which are performed by the principles of his constitution ; 
but the man who is acquainted with the two distinctions of cause 
and effect will give himself no trouble. . . . The man who, em¬ 
ployed in the practice of works, is of a purified soul and a subdued 
spirit, and whose soul is the universal soul, is not (injuriously) af¬ 
fected by so being.” 


* See St. John’s Gospel, ch. xiv. 20, and ch. xvii. 21. Recent investi¬ 
gators profess themselves able to show that the Bhagvat Geeta is of much 
later origin than has heretofore been supposed. It appears, now, to be 
probable, not that the writers of the New Testament were influenced by 
the Bhagvat Geeta, but that the writer of the Bhagvat Geeta was influenced 
(not in this passage only, but in many others) by the style of St. John’s 
Gospel. The substance , however, of the philosophic doctrines of the Bhag¬ 
vat Geeta may be traced back among the Buddhists, to a date more than 
seven hundred years before the coming of our Lord. 

This pamphlet was written in 1845 or 1846; and the author, at that time, 
supposed the Bhagvat Geeta to be a very ancient book. 

2 * 



84 


“ This whole world was spread abroad by me,” says Kreeshna, 
“ in my invisible form. All things depend on me, and I am not 
dependent upon them. Behold my divine connection. My crea¬ 
tive spirit is the keeper of all things, not the dependent. Under¬ 
stand that all things rest in me, as the mighty air, which passeth 
everywhere, resteth in the ethereal space. At the end of the for¬ 
mation, at the end of the day of Brahma, all things, O son of 
Koontee! return into my primordial source ; and, at the beginning 
of another formation, I create them all again I plant myself in 
my own virtue, and create, again and again, this assemblage of 
beings, this whole, from the power of Nature without power. 
Those works confine not me ; because I am like one that sitteth 
aloof, uninterested in those works. By my supervision, Nature 
produceth both the movable and the immovable. It is from this 
source, O Arjoon ! that the universe resol veth.” 

Buddhism, as it seems to us, is the true conclusion, 
and the logical halting-place, for all these speculations. 
The Buddhists teach that the universe is brought into 
the possession of such existence as it has through 
the disintegration of the Aboriginal Nothing by means 
of another subsequent nothing. The first Nothing is 
the Abyss of potentiality: the subsequent nothing is 
error. The world commences by the fact that es¬ 
sences lost in the indifference of mere potential 
being, become deluded into a belief of their own and 
each other’s existence. Their error gradually becomes 
stronger and stronger; and at the same time, by rea¬ 
son of their error, the universe appears to thicken 
and harden little by little, and to seemingly pass 
into actuality. But this actuality is not reality ; it is 
mere grossness of error; it is maya , illusion. The 
universe is nothing. Man’s body, and the worlds, 
exist only in erroneous supposition. The reality of 


35 


the worlds is only such as is given in the formula, 
actuality = 0x0. Evil, sorrow, and pain have their 
abiding-place nowhere but in actual worlds. The 
actual universe is therefore the substance of evil, if 
evil can properly be said to have any substance. The 
way of salvation is therefore plain. It is the path of 
knowledge ; for knowledge destroys error, and, conse¬ 
quently, the visible universe which is founded in error, 
as light dispels darkness. The perception of visible 
things is a mistaken prejudice, bred from unreasoning 
habit. As man progresses in knowledge, error di¬ 
minishes, and the world and himself recede towards 
potential existence ; and, when man becomes perfect 
in knowledge, error is abolished, and man, and the 
world so far as it concerns man, re-enter the abyss 
together, and cease to exist. 

The Buddhists designate the original nothing by 
the word nirvana : va , to blow; nir, out. The soul 
attains beatitude when it reaches nirvana; when it 
becomes like the flame of a candle that has been 
blown out; when it becomes defunct, extinct, nothing. 
It comes from nothing, it is nothing, and it goes to 
nothing. 

We have nothing to say in praise or dispraise of 
Buddhism; but we will conclude our remarks by 
observing that its doctrines, though transcendently 
spiritual, are not at all the Christian doctrines which 
proclaim the existence of a living God, and a future 
of eternal life for the human soul, but, on the con¬ 
trary, their distinct negation. 

It is estimated that there are in the world more 
than three hundred and fifteen million adherents of 


36 


the Buddhist faith: the Christians, counting all de¬ 
nominations, are supposed to number less than half 
as many. Buddhism is the religion of the vast coun¬ 
tries between the Himalaya Mountains and the boun¬ 
daries of Siberia, of the majority of the people in the 
great empire of China, the religion of the empire and 
people of Japan, of the States in and near the pen¬ 
insula of Farther India, and of many of the islands 
south and east of Farther India. It is hard to be¬ 
lieve that the most widety diffused religion in the 
world, and the one which, after Christianity, is the 
most spiritual of any, the most favorable to civiliza¬ 
tion, the most effectually moral, and the one that has 
awakened in its missionaries the greatest enthusiasm, 
followed by the greatest amount of self-denial and 
self-sacrifice, is a religion professedly founded on 
speculative atheism; but such appears to be the es¬ 
tablished fact. 


\ 



BY 





WILLIAM B. GREENE. 


“ Rich is that universal self whorn thou worshippest as the soul.” 

The Vedas. 


FOURTH EDITION. 


BOSTON : 

LEE AND SHEPARD, 149 WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK: LEE, SHEPARD, AND DILLINGHAM. 

1871 . 





































































































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